Doom Marvel Future Shock- Fickleness of Souls
by Keravin
Summary: Someone is killing the Immortals. Doom is determined to find out who and stop it - his way
1. Default Chapter Title

"In the long run we are all dead." - John Maynard Keynes, Tract on Monetary Reform. 

_There are beings far older than Doom in this world. _

You may have met those who have walked the earth since Medieval times, but there are others who view those as youngsters. 

He gazed down at the blood pouring from the wound. It was an old sensation. The wind blew up again and he dodged to the side. Even dodging he felt the razorwind pass by him. Beginning to back away into the rubble strewn ruins he scanned for his opponent. He was Hercules of the Gods and of the Avengers. He had stood by some of the greatest heroes of all time and been victorious. Skulking villains did not sit well with him. 

In the corner of his eye he spied a flash of movement and span to intercept it. A light brighter than white blinded him as the hand clasped his forehead. Visions ran past his eyes of past follies, loves and friends. In the end he was confronted by his deep rooted regrets as his life passed from this existence. 

## DOOM MFS #4

### THE FICKLENESS OF SOULS

#### Part One of Two

Written by Mark Peyton  
Black Axe created by Michael Bennet and Edmund Pennington

Through a crisp white landscape walked a man encased in a jet black armour. His footsteps pressed deep into the untouched snow and he trudged on completely aware of his watchers. Across his back was strapped a unique device - a Battle Axe unlike any other. 

The name the man had gone by for the longest was Black Axe. For the last 10,000 years he had roamed the world acting as a Mercenary and Assassin. Clothed in state of the art equipment he is one of the most dangerous men on the planet. His location? The North Western border of Latveria. 

He'd been aware of the sensors running over him twenty miles before he hit the border. His path had been direct as he saw no reason to bluff about his destination. Since he had passed through the border human watchers had appeared. Masked by stealth fields they kept to the hilltops. He purposefully kept himself out in the open. 

His dark features showed no emotion or tiredness as he kept going, waiting for his current situation to resolve itself one way or the other. Any sign of weakness would damage his purpose. Any sign of trouble would be dealt with. 

"You are the one called Black Axe," a stern voice said, with no question attached. It came from very close to him. Black Axe turned as his armour's sensors had registered no movement or energy sources that might suggest a hologram. Cloaked in a deep green cloak was the ruler of these lands. The man they called Doom. "You have violated Latverian sovereignty purposefully. These are not actions one would ascribe to you. You play different games. So Doom demands to know why you walk upon his land." 

* * *

"Dixit..." 

The pain shot through her. 

"Deus,.." 

She tried again to call on her ancient powers. 

"Fiat lux,..." 

Nothing. Her youth had been stripped too in the last attack. 

"Et facta..." 

Still he came. 

"Est lux," he finished as her soul was finally drained from the body that had housed it for centuries. One more for the pot. 

* * *

"I knew I had wandered into trouble. You don't survive as long as I have without at least having a feeling for danger. Mr Immortal was late and our data transfers were normally very punctual. We had agreed to meet at a mutual hideaway in the depths of Greenland, where the Puritanical English Governors had little control. As the footsteps crossed the gravelled snow I brought my axe out to play and stepped to the centre of the room away from the doors and walls. Even though the locale was cold, my armour had shielded me from the temperature until now. A slow coldness crept up my spine as the footsteps neared. 

As the footsteps got closer I could hear a phrase being muttered quietly, almost like a prayer, a chant. It was old Latin, but I was never one for speaking it. If he had talked in any variation of Egyptian or Sanskrit I could have told you his accent, but Latin was something I learnt to read, but could only get through in passing conversation. The voice spoke the phrase over and over building his mantra. I could feel the exhilaration building in me. It had been years since a challenge had come along. I had let myself slip back into watching the world, rather than exploring it. 

The door gave way first, followed by the windows, spraying glass into the room. I stood amongst the glass storm and readied my axe, following the footsteps as they moved around outside. The phrase grew louder as I caught words. Fiat... facta... I scanned again for my old friend, Mr Immortal, but found nothing. By many he had been considered a joke, but he tried and I will not condemn anyone who would try and be a hero. 

It was then that the walls were ripped from their very foundations. I took advantage of the debris to get out of the cottage. The cold increased, but no attack came. I swirled my axe in front of me turning slowly waiting to catch a glimpse of my foe. He always seemed to be on the periphery of my sight. I'd move faster to steal a sight of him, but still he remained just out of my view. I began to take advantage of the respite and ran along the path that was usually used to get to the cottage. A new flurry of snow had hit and masked my footsteps, but there were no new ones. My attacker must have flown I thought as I ran towards the outskirts of the wood. 

As I got closer I spied a flash of colour amongst the white and brown of my surroundings. Blue and red hung torn from the branches of a tree. I did not stop to inspect it. I knew it for what it was - the costume of my friend. That was when I knew the danger I was in. Mr Immortal might have been taken down in a fight, but minutes later he would be bounding into action as foolishly as before. There was no sign of him and only one thing could have kept him away - his demise. It took a creature far greater in power than I to kill one such as Mr Immortal. 

I had, but one reason to remain. To catch a glimpse of my attacker so I would have some information to use. As I hit the woods I slowed and began to move slowly amongst the snow covered branches that hung ominously over my form. It was then that the searing pain hit me from my side. Something had struck me cutting away my armour as it passed. The pain was not hot, but deathly cold. Again the Latin resumed. 

In front of me stood my attacker. Even having not seen him I had some how knew it was a he who attacked. There was something unearthly about him as he stood still, holding a globe towards me. He like me was coloured, but of Negro origin rather than the African stock I came from. His head was shaven, but his eyes were a pure white. I found myself unable to look into them as they seemed as blinding as the Sun. For all my looking at him I could not tell you what he wore, just his face and that in his hands he held a globe which seemed to be made of glass, but which reflected my very soul. 

He had paused in his chanting and considered me as I have considered many foes. His form said everything I needed to know about my predicament. He considered me a prey almost taken. As my armour reformed over the still cold wound he had opened I nodded to him as I activated one of my many retrieval programs. I was not ready to go quiet into the good night. If I was to be a prey then I would lead a better chase. 

As I blinked out of his existence I heard the chant once more and the cold in my arm grow. Returning to Earth I arrived at one of my homes I have kept in seclusion. Even though it had once been discovered I returned to my Castle in what was once Scotland to repair the damage and to seek an ally to deal with this Immortal Killer. Which is why you find me blatantly walking into your sovereign land. 

* * *

_FORMER GREECE_

The craft shot through the clouds like a bullet. "Impressive," said Black Axe as they passed over another border with no detection. 

"Indeed," replied Doom, his fingertips planted on the craft's control panel, the complex manoeuvres running through his armour. "Have you ever entered the City before?" 

Black Axe gazed out of the window. "No, I have not. Of course I've encountered one or two of the Eternals before, but as the largest concentration of Immortals it is an obvious first stop. 

Doom did not look away from the path of the craft as he asked, "Why did you come to Doom?" 

"You are a force in this world and you have more practical experience than many of the other immortals. I also think there is a force behind this, which we have both encountered in the past." 

"Curious," Doom said, silent then as a proximity alarm sounded as the craft shot past an Italian plane. Doom's ship did not even register on the other's sensors at 100 meters apart. "The City is not giving it's usual readings and the standard protocols have not been demanded." 

Black Axe leaned over Doom's shoulder. "Are we too late?" 

"It is fortunate for you that Doom has ventured into this place before, else you would not have gained access. Stand back as I take us into land." The plane turned and kept to a rigid approach pattern. It dipped between two mountains, then stayed straight. Black Axe's eyes widened as the nose of the craft disappeared into thin air, followed quickly by the remainder of the ship. 

As they came through the other side of the portal, they were met by the vision of a golden city, sprawling out beneath them under clear blue skies. The spires were cast high into the sky, sparkling from a non existent sun. Doom ran his fingers over the craft's sensors. "There are no signs of life below." 

The plane dipped as Doom stayed silent. Black Axe moved to look through one of the side windows at one of the few places in the world older than he. 

They touched down in a tree lined plaza at the opposite end to a stepped fountain. Doom ran his fingers once more in a sweep over the control panel, then stood. "We will learn nothing from in here." Black Axe picked his weapon off the rack and listened to its comforting hum. The Steel Monarch walked out into the city of the Eternals first, his hood pulled up over his masked face. As he stepped down off the ramp the stone paving crumbled at his feet. He paused kneeling and ran the golden dust through his fingers. 

Turning back to Black Axe he spoke quietly. "It has dissolved from old age. An impossibility in this city of impossibilities." 

Black Axe nodded and pressed his axe head against some of the surrounding slabs. Not all dissolved as he pushed with the tip. "It's not everywhere." 

"Which means something outside of ourselves is responsible. Those that have shattered follow a pattern. They are spaced easily within a steps distance." Doom stood and pulled his cloak over his arm, supporting it. "Let us look for any signs of struggle." 

The immortal mercenary drew down his axe in a graceful manoeuvre and advanced slowly. 

They stepped through what had once been a glorious city. Fit for the gods one might have said. Doom had visited it twice before for reasons of his own and come face to face with those who would call themselves Eternal. Many of them had been too brash or flippant with their power to have been of true use to him. There had been those of use though. 

For Black Axe it was a rare experience visiting a part of the world that was new to him. He too had known Eternals in past days, and had even been the lover of one. This visit filled him with an equal measure of sadness and uneasiness. But never fear. He had sensed the power in the infernal creature when it attacked him, but did it have the ability to do this - to cleanse this city of beings almost on the par with gods? 

They found no signs of conflict nor of life. "We cannot assume this was caused by your attacker. This may be the result of an exodus." 

"Which is almost as worrying. If the Eternals have abandoned ship what does that mean for the rest of us?" 

"Our goal should be to pursue this immortal killer. The fate of the Eternals can be dealt with later. Doom will not allow himself to be distracted." 

* * *

_NEW LATVERIA_

The gold leaf on the curtains glistened in the light. She sat wrapped in scarlet as she waited for her visitors. 

"Marguerite," the firm voice said, "We have come for your insight." The two visitors had not disturbed the curtains at all arriving. She turned to consider her Monarch and the man encased in the black armour. 

"The axeman has come, I see," she said, nodding to Black Axe. 

"Yes, and not an executioner. At least not for Doom. He goes by the name of Black Axe." 

Black Axe nodded and held out his hand. "You have the look of your grandmother," he said. 

"Great grandmother or so I am told." 

"I tend to miss generations so you'll excuse me," replied the coloured Immortal. 

Marguerite looked into the face of Doom. "You have come for some direction." 

Doom sat, throwing his cloak back as he said, "I have come to see if any other roads exist apart from the one Black Axe and I feel we shall take." 

The lights in the cubicle dimmed till only a central beam remained. "What would you have known?" 

Black Axe stood back as the dark masked half his face. He said softly, "Our path." 

The woman nodded, closing her eyes. 

"The red man beckons. He taunts you with puppets, cutting the strings from the other's toys. You have both known him, but not in the way either expects." 

"I see a weeping woman, bound again, for a second piece of revenge." 

"I see the laying down to rest of an old friend and a new purpose." 

"I see pain and chaos. I see sacrifice. I see war." 

Marguerite opened her eyes slowly and looked to the two. "You have chosen your path as I told you before. You have made yourself become greater than any imagined and you must do more." 

Doom moved his head slowly and looked up at Black Axe. "It would seem the path is as expected." He reached into his cloak and took out a tied black bag. 

Marguerite smiled. "Customs must be observed." 

Doom laid the bag into her outstretched hand. "As they should be." 

* * *

Black Axe had been left alone for a few hours and traced his finger against the glass. `How long have I been fighting the World's Wars? Too long. The Killer seems to be smiting down Immortals. Is this a way out?' 

He turned from the window and shrugged at the thought. `If I was truly tired of fighting why would I have come to Doom. He is not trusted by many of the other long lived, after hi early years of trampling on a lot of feet while on some mad scheme for power. Now he has it and he is feared.' Black Axe sat looking down at his hands. `I see no fear in this land. Doom is a hard man, but in this land he is not a tyrant.' The Immortal's eyes felt tired as he thought, `I know what tyrants are like.' 

A knock rang on his door and Black Axe reached for his axe. "Who is it?" 

The voice answered, "I bring a summons from the King. He asks you to join him." 

Black Axe closed his eyes and replied, "Tell him I will be there shortly." As the voice left he knelt and began to prepare himself mentally and undertook his ritual of armouring. 

Shortly he was led to a large room where Doom sat looking into a large oval mirror. The Latverian monarch had taken to wearing an old green cloak. Black Axe was interested by the fact that Doom had clothed himself in one of the old colours he had worn as a villain. With his axe he pointed to the cloak and nodded questioningly. 

Doom stood, holding the cloak for a second before letting it drop. "We go to face an old enemy. He expects Dr Doom does he not so who is Doom to disappoint. He expects Dr Doom. That will be an advantage. I am not the man I was." 

Black Axe chuckled. "I am the man I've always been, but that's good enough for me." 

Doom did not reply as he stood in front of the mirror and waved his hand over the glass. It rippled and began to flow. He held his hand out and said quietly, "Let us go see the Red Man. Mephisto awaits." 

* * *

The pool rippled as he pressed his finger through the image. "Come face me, Doom, and see how the game can be snatched from your fingers." The Red Man smiled and waited. 

* * *

_NEXT ISSUE_ - 

_Doom and Black Axe venture into Hell to face with MFS's very own Mephisto. Who is the Immortal killer and what hope does even Doom have against him? What games are being played and whose soul hangs in the balance? Find out in the conclusion of **THE FICKLENESS OF SOULS** leading straight into the end of year blow-out **PARADISE LOST**._

* * *

**POSTSCRIPTS FROM LATVERIA**

Sorry. It just seems to happen. Every time I sit down to write a Doom Oneshot it grows into a two parter. I'm not one to write mega length stories if I can find a suitable place to break the story and so get it into the public domain quicker. 

A little background on the story and characters. So far the bodycount is a minimum of three. Yes, that is really Hercules. No, there will be no resurrections. He is gone. Kaput. What happened to the Eternals? Well, I'm sure it's a story we'll get to some day as well as Doom's history with them. A related story is already going on somewhere in the MFS I just can't say where. 

And onto our co-star. This is probably your first meeting with Black Axe. He ran for about 7 issues, being published by Marvel UK and just disappeared. The character in my opinion has far too much in him to just let him stay in limbo. An immortal mercenary who we were shown having a history that stretched past Egyptian times and who found some new challenges back in the 1990s. I mean that just throws up possibilities to me - it's Marvel's Highlander, I'm telling ya. 

Behind the first three issues' covers by the fabulous John Romita Jr we met the armour encased Black Axe who kept many secret identities, but mainly that of Robert Hyde. Ok, because it was a Marvel UK title Death's Head II had to show up, but even through some below par artwork the character became one I'm rather fond of. Believe me hunt the book out of those bargain bins. Issues 1-7 include Sunfire, Black Panther, Death's Head II and of course Mephisto. Which leads us nicely into next issue. 

As for the man formerly known as Dr Doom, well some guys called Kirby and Lee created him. 

Doom 5 will be along shortly. It has to be. Once that's out the way I can start on one of the two PARADISE LOST preludes we're doing. 

The work just never stops. 

Any email or comments to me at [Starman26@hotmail.com][1]

   [1]: mailto:Starman26@hotmail.com



	2. Default Chapter Title

Down into Hell they descended. 

Neither was pure of soul. 

And they had both been here before. 

* * *

### DOOM MARVEL FUTURE SHOCK Issue #5

#### THE FICKLENESS OF SOULS Pt 2 (of 2)

Written by Mark Peyton  
Edited by Alex Cook 

* * *

ìDeum aliquem prÛtect™rum vÛs rapt™rumque hus putatis? - Do you think that some god is going to protect you and carry you from here?î 

* * *

The first vision that struck Doom as he opened his eyes was redness. A sheer wall of blood stood high in front of him as he glanced around looking for his companion. Black Axe was nowhere in sight and Doomís sensors could not be trusted down here. He had expected as much. All his skills would be called upon to survive. Especially if he did not want to reveal his ace. 

There seemed no obvious route, so pulling his hood up over his masked visage he walked at, and into, the wall of blood. To a normal person the very movement through such a construct would have been decidingly unsettling. As the thick liquid ran onto him and would have threatened to suffocate him if Doom had not sealed his armour. The blood pressed down but Doom paid it no heed. 

And so he walked onwards. 

ëThis was unlike Mephisto,í Doom thought. ëHe was usually eager to confront and taunt. Images to unnerve or attacks were his modus operandi when people ventured into Hell. This strange isolation was a different style.í 

As he placed another foot forward his boot stepped out of the barrier. The rest of his body followed quickly. 

He was confronted by a large arch. The arch was festooned with the writhing forms of various demons, all chattering away. They moved in an almost wave like manner, hugging the archís sides. Between the arch however was a blinding light. Even Doomís armour could not compensate to allow him to look at it freely. The light almost pulsated with intensity and then began to dim and become clearer. 

He had seen a similar light once before when his motherís soul had been set free by his selflessness and so had thwarted Mephisto. Doom did not expect to see such a light again, certainly not for himself as it was the light of a soul that had been granted access to peace. 

Doom lifted his head and walked towards it, his feet touching the backs of an array of demons before him. Their chattering filled the chamber, building to a feverpitch as he came closer and closer to the source of the light. Moving steadily towards the light, Doom was patently aware of the vision Mephisto seemed to be about to torment with him, but it could not affect him as long as he knew it to be a lie. The final step brought him onto the plateau, from which the light shone, and he brought his head up to look upon it. As he had stepped closer the lightís intensity had lessened and now he gazed upon the form he had expected. 

Many years previously, before Operation Green had seen half the world fall before his feet, Doom had taken part in a Mystical Competition to garner the services of the Sorcerer Supreme, one Dr Stephen Strange, to accompany into Mephistoís realm, for reasons of his own. Those reasons were to battle for the freedom of his motherís soul, which she had given up to secure her people a homeland, to secure them Latveria. As the two confronted the demon, Doom was forced to sacrifice his motherís love to save her and Strange from Mephistoís treachery. Her soul had found release as she redeemed herself and escaped from Mephistoís clutches. 

Or so Doom had believed. 

As he considered the features of his mother before him, her long dark hair framed down her back, he could see the truth in the form that stood before him. Doom was not merely a scientist. In his pursuit of power, and the ability to free his mother, he had dabbled in sorcery, teaching himself the mystical arts from his motherís own journals. One of the reasons he had invested so much effort in his scientific endeavours was a distrust of magic. He had yet to meet someone for whom dabbling had not brought them grief. However, he recognised the signature of magic, the taste it left in the air to those who knew. He looked into the face of the mother he had never thought to see her again and found something in Hell he had never thought to find - the truth. This truly was his motherís soul plucked from her rest. Cynthia Von Doomís captured face showed no anguish, her eyes closed as tranquillity rested on her face, while all around the demons chattered. 

Doomís gaze rested one last time on his motherís face and then he stepped past. His mask hid many things. It hid insecurities from the world of a man who had always feared finishing second, it hid the terrible scars inflicted on himself in his quest for power, but today it hid a single tear and two whispered words. 

ìOne day.î 

* * *

He had walked onwards and came to a flight of stairs. Not wishing to go back he ascended quickly and stepped out onto what seemed to be a platform. Doom looked around and considered his surroundings, looking out onto an unfamiliar skyscrape. Even his very garb had changed. Where his cloak had once been green, it was now red. His gloved hand stroked over his mask. No, not his mask. He knew how each of his masks had felt. How the metal had touched his scars. The tips of his fingers ran up his face, past the smooth nose area and touched his left eye. There was no robotic eye. No reminder of failure. 

Turning his body, he looked up and seemed to be standing on a balcony on what seemed to be a giant upturned hammer hanging over a city. His eyes looked down to see the round outfacing of the old White House in what had been the capital of the Americas. At the front of the lawn was an energy shield and people flinging themselves at it, showing their resistance as they burnt. This was not his world. It was certainly some type of future. He had been to Washington many times and this was not the same city. Not the city that had been abandoned when the Avengers moved the capital. 

His sensors alerted him to a movement behind. A short dark haired woman stepped from inside the floating construct, clad in green. Her eyes were a piercing blue, and she carried herself in a very businesslike manner. Even her clothes, though of high quality, were extremely functional. ìThe White House is cleared and set up. Iíve taken the liberty of setting up a landlocked Dive chamber just in case.î Doom considered her face. She spoke to him with a tone of familiarity as if suggesting they knew each other and that Doom trusted her. He tilted his head slightly trying to see past her, around her, trying to pierce any demonic aura. ìDoom, are you ok?î 

Again that familiarity. She was not someone he knew from his past so from whence had Mephisto plucked her image. He decided to act normally, and be in control. ìDoom shows no weakness. How do you intend to use this ëDive chamberí?î 

ìItís just in case we get any interference on Libera Cielo. The landlines are inviolable. I want to be certain. We lost a few of the Cadre on the initial attack,î she answered. 

The name she said ëLibera Cieloí. It was Latveria for Clear Sky. Even members of his own court did not speak the ancient tongue of his land. How then did this woman, someone he had never laid eyes on before? Yet more information. This was certainly not his memory so where had it come from? ìWe should descend,î he stated. Not a request, but an order. There would be no familiarity with him. Mephisto appeared to be tempting him with the White House, a symbol of conquest, of an achievement he had not attained. 

She moved to one side and he stepped into the floating citadel. ëThe design was quite outstanding, practical and the images being flashed around the various screens were sharp. If nothing else this suggested a route for exploration. This Doom, Mephisto was presenting, appeared to have some useful resources.í Doom stopped and smiled beneath his mask. ëThat was the key. Mephisto had drawn these images from him. From his connection to that future Doom. This was his. Before his fall. Before his fall had cost him Latveria. Mephisto had tried to tempt him with a What if, but had not accounted for Doomís will.í 

Doom turned. ìTake me down. I wish to make an inspection.î ëThe White House had been laid before him as a lure, therefore he would venture down. It would appear to be the route to take to get through this mirage.í 

The woman in blue led him through another set of doors, behind which sat a number of miniature platforms. She gave way to him and shook her head, her breathing irascible as he stepped onto the skiff. An authorisation code keyed in and they began their descent. ëMephisto was probably overjoyed with his symbolism, seeking to undermine Doomís resolve. All those years of working to free my motherís soul should have dissuaded him from such a foolish notion. No man can turn Doom from his path, only delay him. Richards was proof of that.í 

Doom turned his head to consider the woman, running a scan of her through his armourís diagnostic scanners, right down to her DNA. She looked at him. ìWhat are you doing? You donít think I can feel that. Thereíll be an extra charge if you want my sequencing. I donít think youíd want all that many Indigo Eshuns running around in your New America.î 

Nodding his head almost imperceptibly he replied, ìPerhaps not. But in another world.î 

ìFor your money and your cause, Doom, itís just a case of ours but to do and die.î 

Doom considered the quote for a moment. ìAm I a good ruler?î 

ìHumility, Doom? Never thought you had it in you. Youíre far better than some of the scum in this world and at the heart of it all you have a cause. That makes you a far greater man than most. Far better than the scum we helped you oust. You care. Just you have a funny way of showing it.î 

ìI believe, Indigo Eshun, you may just have reminded Doom of his path. He thanks you.î 

ìYou and your third person narrative sometimes.î 

The rest of the journey continued in silence. 

As they touched down Doom placed his hand on Indigoís shoulder. ìI shall go on alone.î 

ìWhatever you say. Youíre footing the bill.î 

Doom stepped from the platform and looked up to consider the construct hanging above him. ìAnother place and at too high a cost,î he said quietly. He strode purposefully towards the White House and into the light. 

* * *

The light dimmed and Doom looked into the face of Black Axe. In his eyes, Doom saw a spark. Black Axe felt alive. All the temptations could not distract him. Heíd spent many years examining his flaws and no demon was going to shock him. To his eyes Doom appeared steeled by his experiences, ready and willing to do anything to stop Mephisto. 

They turned as one and looked up into the face of the Red Man. Raised above them was an elongated human face with eyes as dark as coal. Itís skins was red, not the red of sunburn, but the red of fire. A broad smile spread over the distorted visage. Doom raised himself up and considered his foe. ëThere was to be no showing weakness.í 

Mephisto smiled down. ìGreetings. I do hope that the welcome was to your liking.î His eyes fell on Doom. ìYou do look unhappy. Not a joyous reunion?î 

Doom did not respond, merely considering a lord of lies. 

The Red Man turned and looked at Black Axe. ìI should not neglect you. That would make me a poor host. Meet the other guests.î His hand waved over them, its fingertips sweeping close. Around them islands of floating earth appeared, populated by lost souls. Doomís eyes remained focused on Mephisto, while Black Axe slowly turned, clutching his weapon to his form. He did not recognise all the faces, but was saddened by those he did. 

Warriors he had fought alongside, friends, lovers - immortals all. The souls seemed almost phased from reality, assuming a bluey- grey hue. However, standing amongst them was a hooded figure, cloaked in black. Black Axe sensed a recognition for the creature. As he glanced again it struck him that no member of the Eternals stood amongst the assembled wraiths. 

Silence settled with even the flames licking up the earth without a sound. It was if a vacuum had settled over the arena. 

Doom broke the quiet. ìHarvesting souls with a reaper, Lord of Lies. You have grown desperate. Temptation a lost art perhaps?î 

The taloned hand swept down again, a hairís breadth from Doomís head, and scooped up a collection of the souls. ìThe world has changed, dear Victor. Victories thought won have been snatched away. You set yourself up on a pinnacle and changed the playing field, why should you be the only one? People let us down so often. Making those right choices. If this is the land of the damned, what does that make you?î 

Black Axe moved to his side and placed his hand on Doomís shoulder. The Latverian Monarch was prepared to throw off his hand as a text message appeared on his display. 

ìThere are no Eternals amongst the immortals.î 

Doom considered the significance of the information and the new light it threw on the situation. The readout continued. 

ìThe interesting casualties are Hercules and one of the Mystechs.î 

Doomís replay was short and to the point. 

ìMephisto was collecting old debts.î 

He stepped forward as Mephisto dropped two of the wraiths into his open mouth as they slipped into oblivion. The other clawed hand beckoned towards Doom and Black Axe as the island of earth swept closer. Fingertips ran across the tip of Doomís hood as he considered his next phrase. 

ìThe games are over, Mephisto.î 

ìThe games are never over, Victor.î The Red Man paused and a blinding light appeared above them, centred on a new island raised high above. Doom refused to look up as the light grew in intensity. 

ìNo more games, Mephisto. This is over.î 

As the light dimmed, Mephisto ran his hand around the female figure framed within. ìIsnít she a picture, Victor. It must warm your heart to see her again when you thought her lost.î 

Doom refused to look up, not willing to hand the Lord of Lies that small victory. ìEnough!î he said, his voice harsh and chilling through the maskís opening. 

ìNow, now Victor, you know that youíve failed before. Not even the so called Sorcerer Supreme could aid your petty dabbling.î The distorted face moved closer and sneered. ìAnd now you come with a glorified axeman.î 

Behind his mask, Doom smiled. ìYour overconfidence is your undoing.î He flexed his hand and reached for his belt. ìLet us end this, Black Axe.î 

Drawing back the blade of his weapon, Black Axe leapt across the hellfire towards the hooded figure stood amongst the wraiths. Mephistoís gaze turned to his puppet and the Bishop sprang into life. ìTake the soul of the man who evaded you, my reaper.î 

The dark cloaked assassin threw back his garb and brought into the light a curved blade, jagged along its back edge. His face revealed nothing about the man he might have been. A small trimmed goatee, his hair shaved close to the head. No visible scars, no spark of life in his eyes. As the Bishop moved around he began to chant, ìDixit deus, ëfiat luxí, et facta est lux.î 

Doom stood his ground in front of the Red Man, running through the translation. ìëGod said, ëLet there be lightí, and there was light.í Curious, Mephisto. Even your puppet killer looks to a higher authority than you.î To their side the clash of metal rang out as axe met blade. ìYou can taunt all you like, Mephisto, but it does not change the truth.î In his hand he palmed a gem, holding onto it tightly. He had seen victories snatched away. ìThe world has changed so much that you are obsolete. Even the pure are sullied while their heroes shy away from the light. People have faced their darkness, but here you are still playing your little games. Doom is above you.î 

Mephisto growled at him. ìYou think that you are in control. You believe that you will triumph.î The Red Man laughed. ìYou even believe your precious Latveria is safe. Poor foolish Victor.î 

* * *

The blur of speed came again and this time Black Axe was ready. As the Bishop continued his chanting the words had begun to meld. The killerís blade swept in close, but Black Axe countered it with his axeís shaft. He wasnít making any inroads against the Immortal killer. In all his years heíd never encountered such an opponent. There was no emotion, just an onslaught. He blocked and parried, parried and blocked, but got no hits in. Glancing down at his weapon he saw his course of action clear. 

Doom watched the assault from the central island of earth, considering why the Master of Lies and temptation did not attack them himself. His gaze drifted to his hand, clenched tight around their salvation and he wondered if he should reveal his ace in the hole. Mephisto hung like a demented jackal above them watching as the chess pieces moved through their duel. As Black Axe darted back once more Doom became increasingly tempted to take the step from which there would be no return. 

In all his centuries of fighting across the Earth and in other dimensions, Black Axe had never come close to being forced that blade which had served him so well. His weapon was synomous with his identity. They were both the Black Axe. But now... now as the Bishop came in for another flurry, Black Axe saw no other option. He steeled himself, his armour wrapped around him, his ever changing eyes focused forward. The last time he had come this close to desperation was strangely enough the first time he had fought Mephisto, when the Cyborg Fugitive from the future called the Deathís Head had found him wanting in combat. That time it had been a lack of focus that had cost him the day but it had reforged his spirit and placed him on his path again. Now, it was a matter of honour. He would not sacrifice his reputation. He would not be defeated in combat, even if it cost him his blade. 

As the Bishop came close again Black Axe let his weapon open up, like a flower. Its black metal sheath folded away as its heart came into focus. This was a weapon forged over millennia, as much a part of his legend as his own abilities. Mephisto had once cast him aside saying that he was a being with no lust or ambition, whose singularity of purpose was unique. He was a warrior and he was no oneís prey. 

His eyes closed, Black Axe whirled and brought his blade home one last time. Energy ripped through the weapon as it struck the Immortal Killer. If such a creature had had a heart then the axe would have hit home. As the Bishop realised its fate itsí eyes fell on Black Axe and blackness overcame them. A single word danced into the Immortal Assassinís ears. The word, ìThankyou.î From within light exploded from the now dormant shell of the reaper. Black Axe did not avert his gaze as the end came. 

As the light seared through Bishop, the killer looked one last time towards itís Master. Mephisto did not even turn his head to face it as he glared at Doom. The Latverian Monarch tilted his head to consider the dying embers of the creature that had taken so many Immortals from the coil they had never thought to leave. 

The battle won Black Axe fell to his knees nursing the shell of his weapon, its blade withered away by excessive age, as its true history caught up with it. That had been the power of the Bishop, the Immortal killer. Not to face the immortals with any great display of power, but to allow the hand of Father Time to catch up on them and remind them of their true age. It had been that confrontation with reality that had sealed their fates. 

Black Axe wondered if he would have gone the same way at the last. As it was he had been forced to sacrifice an artefact older than many civilisations. 

Turning to look at Mephisto, a light dawned on him. If this was the same being he had fought before why then had the Lord of Lies tried to tempt him. Surely Mephisto would remember well their last encounter and that taste of fear he had felt after attempting to feed on Back Axeís soul. He pushed himself from his knees and looked intently at the Red Man. There was no way that the true Mephisto would have forgotten. No way in the world and certainly the Lord of Lies carried his grudges forever. That meant the creature standing before them was a fake. 

Gathering his axe into a compartment on his back in the hopes of salvaging something later, Black Axe moved backwards and began the run up to leap across the hellfire. Doom did not acknowledge him as he landed. What the real Mephisto had said about it being rare to find a creature of such singular purpose such as he brought a smile to his face after all these years. He was, but, an amateur at purpose compared to Doom, a man who had changed the world and now sought to bring the Lord of Hell to his knees. 

Black Axe wasted no time and brought his hand into contact with Doomís armour again. The text message was simple. ìThat is not Mephisto.î 

Once again Doom found himself intrigued by a message from Black Axe. His eyes on the Red Manís, he sheathed the gem he had thought he would be forced to use. Black Axe relayed an exact replay of his previous contact with Mephisto through their armour and left that tantalising thread for Doom to grab. 

He stepped forward and smiled once more. 

ìThings change, Lord of Lies, including you. You are not the same fiend that has attempted to thwart me before. Black Axeís insight is true. You are not the true Mephisto.î 

Mephistoís expression changed from one of rage to one of amusement. ìYou might just survive the first round, Victor. A crying shame that you will never understand the full picture. I am this worldís only Mephisto. Perhaps not the creature you were expecting, but the Lord of this realm now.î He laughed, a sound that could turn sweet dreams into nightmares and the Red Man turned, stepping away into the sky. ìThis game is over. You take what you wish from it. I have my prize.î 

As he ascended, he paused and turned looking down at Doom, his face masked in shadow, with only his red eyes piercing the dark. ìOne last thing Victor, a clue, because I do so long to watch you scrambling around in the dark. We have met before, but I was not in this guise. Think on that when the real cost of your actions today comes to light. î 

Before either Black Axe or Doom could take action against the departing demon, the Red Man gathered a green sphere of energy in his hand and cast out two darts, striking his armoured opponents. Black Axe became very aware that his environment was changing as he held the carcass of his long trusted companion in his arms. The smell of sulphur gave way to a clinical, precise odour. His eyes looked up from the remnants of his axe to find that he and Doom stood once more in the room from which they had stepped through the mirror into Hades. Doom turned his back on Black Axe and walked from the room, as the understanding at what today had cost became clear. The pouch he had pocketed the gem in was empty. 

* * *

ìThe good die young. That is why immortality is reserved for the greatest of evils.î - Daniel Baldwin, The Usual Suspects 

* * *

Hades can reflect whatever mood its Master desires. Today there was a little light in hell. The Red Man strolled across the sky, his cloak billowing hundreds of miles behind him. He had a direction to go in, a destination fixed in mind. In front of him in the sky of darkness and fire hung a small gem, perfect in every way. Almost unique in the universe. The previous Mephisto had well known of its abilities and this what one Victor Von Doom had so kindly brought into Hell. 

His taloned hand reached into the ether and plucked the gem from the sky. The day was his and soon Doom would realise the cost of his actions. 

Chess games worked so much better on more than one level. 

* * *

_**NEXT** - Well there may be another Doom story along shortly, but the continuation of this one can be found in two preludes coming up soon that start up MFSí first big crossover in the form of PARADISE LOST. Itís big and it really does spin out of a lot youíve been shown here drawing in the likes of Spiderman, the Thunderbolts, and the Avengers to the front line. And where are the battlelines being drawn....?_

* * *

**MESSAGES FROM LATVERIA**

You might have noticed some of the sources I used for this and last issue. The Doctor Strange/Doctor Doom GN : Triumph and Torment published back in 1989 showed up in my hands after the initial plot for this had been thought out, but it has provided us with new spins on where to take things and how we reached the points we are at. It also gave me some nice additions to Doomís character I had forgotten about. Our new writer on the site Alex Maggi is a very big Dr Strange fan and he did mention how we were going to deal with reconciling stuff. It just forced us to be even sneakier than we were before. 

Also another prime source for the temptations was Warren Ellisí fabulous run on Doom 2099. Epic doesnít begin to describe how well he deals with such major events so fluidly and majestically in his invasion of America issues. The whole Libera Cielo sequence comes from there and I enjoy referencing 2099 when weíre an alternate future. 2099 is still the starting point as I see it for our take on the Marvel Future. Black Axeís references to having encountered Mephisto before come straight from his third issue where he and Deathís Head II (altogether now yawn) ended up facing Mephisto. 

As you can see Iíve left various questions unanswered after this story as I never intended answering them straight away. Such as who was Bishop, what has happened to the Eternals, what happens now Mephisto has a very special gem, what is that gem, and where did Doom find it? And the biggy if Mephisto isnít Mephisto then who is he and where is the old Mephisto? Well I did say last issue youíd meet MFSí very own Mephisto. If youíre a budding writer and any of those take your imagination then donít hesitate to prop to us. Weíre always on the look out for new staff. 


End file.
